The World Turned Upside Down For More than 3 Days
by MiseryMaker
Summary: How Bones season 8 could begin... Just one of many ways things could get started. NOTE: Not based on any spoilers or credible information of any sort.
1. Chapter 1

_**[A/N: I have no idea where this came from, what I'm doing (this is very short and choppy writing for me), or where this is headed (oops!). Why post it you might be wondering? Just for the heck of it, I suppose.**_

_**I certainly don't own Bones. But I sure do love watching and can't wait for Season 8 to start!]**_

The World Turned Upside Down for Way More Than Three Days

Chapter 1

Wednesday, 6:23 p.m.

It was more than just the annoyingly typical stop-and-go rush hour traffic that had Booth irritated. Long day at the office, bad news from the squints about yet another dead-end on the Pelant case, missing Bones and Christine even more than usual—that had been the order of the day. But as he sat impatiently in a traffic jam that could not acknowledge or care about his aggravation, Booth's gut—his internal radar—went on alert. For at least the last half-hour, he'd had that feeling that he was being tailed. Sure, the bureau had had him followed more than once since his lover had deserted him and kidnapped his youngest child. But dammit, he'd passed every test and given them no further reason to suspect that he knew where his partner had gone. Hell, he wished things were different. He wished that he had anything—even the tiniest shred of evidence about where Bones was. But she'd left him without warning, without leaving a trace, and without anything that could implicate him in her disappearance. And that still stung.

Growing more unsettled by the moment, Booth tapped his left foot impatiently on the floor mat of his SUV. He'd sat through this light at least 4 times. What the hell had happened? Was the President on the move or something? This was parade-level or dignitary-driven traffic—something he normally would have known about and been able to avoid.

A few minutes later, on the verge of turning off his car and just walking the rest of the way to his empty house, Booth saw the flash of blue lights in his rear-view mirror. Nobody could have begun to consider speeding in this traffic. "Must have made a dangerous lane change," he muttered aloud to his empty car. But when he looked up and saw what was going on behind him, his gut clenched, and he almost lost what was left of the pitiful vending machine lunch he'd wolfed down between meetings. The image of what was happening was too surreal, too unexpected, and too damned impossible for him to process it clearly. Panic rising nearly strong enough to immobilize him in its wake, Booth leapt from the vehicle and ran straight into the line of sight of the rifles and handguns pointed in the direction of his SUV.

[To be continued]


	2. Chapter 2

_**[A/N: Thanks so very much for your kind reviews. Still anxious about posting this given the state of the draft, but might as well dive in and see where this takes us!] **_

Chapter 2

Wednesday, 6:25 p.m.

With every passing second and each determined if shaky step, Booth ignored the shouted warnings and the imminent threats that he should stop or be shot by the officers and agents who were now swarming. Not even contemplating the fact that that making a move for his badge might be considered by the officers as a reach for a weapon, the special agent reached down and yanked his bureau ID roughly from his belt. "FBI!" he yelled, "Special Agent with the FBI!" he yelled loudly enough to be heard over the mayhem erupting all around him. Unlike the other agents, Booth ignored his weapon. Instead, he loped as quickly as possible toward the suspect who had garnered the attention of the authorities—the person who had indeed been tailing him on his lonely drive home.

It was as if the whole scene were a dream—everything around him seemed to be happening in slow motion. He moved on undeterred, ignoring the sounds of louder and more serious warnings that he stand down and not interfere with the officers. His heart pounding in his ears and his blood pressure skyrocketing, Booth pressed forward, getting close enough to start shoving officers and agents out of the way. He manhandled each of them he encountered easily, adrenaline and years of experience getting to his man guiding him on instinct rather than carefully executed plan. Driven as no other man could have been toward his destination, Booth shoved and yanked and kicked his way toward the vehicle. When he reached it and pressed even closer through the throng of law enforcement officials, the suspect turned and stared directly into his face.

"Bones?" he gasped, staring in disbelief at his partner, his lover, his best and most true friend.

"Booth," she whispered, tears filling her eyes and spilling over instantly.


	3. Chapter 3

_**[A/N: This story will be proof that I should write fics completely before posting. Every time I fail to do that, I create havoc. I may have just done that. I'd begun this story planning to have it focus on Booth's POV exclusively. And then, wham... I decided to add a chapter from Temperance's perspective. Not sure this will work or whether I'll continue with this approach or should go back to the original plan (which was still under development)... Just thought you deserved fair warning that I'm wandering dangerously without a plan here-I'm not sure exactly where this one is headed.]**_

Chapter 3

Wednesday, 6:27 p.m.

Seeing her partner and being near enough to reach out and touch him rattled Temperance to the bone. She knew that very thought was utterly irrational, but she didn't even consider contradicting those thoughts and feelings. She'd felt an actual physical blow seeing Booth up close and then being ripped away from him. The moment they'd drawn close to one another, she'd instantly tried to reconcile her distinct and oft-remembered inventory of Booth's facial features with the frantic expression he now wore. In mere seconds, she noted the added lines, the dark circles under his eyes, the exhaustion filling his features, and the stress of this unexpected situation. Cataloguing his features as carefully as the scientist would do naturally, she ached realizing afresh that she had been the source of most of the strain he'd experienced.

As the officers handcuffed her and moved her quickly away from him, she heard Booth's voice calling out to her—reassuring her and promising her he'd help. His proffered support hurt more than it helped. She'd left him alone to worry for months, and, when she'd resurfaced without warning only to draw the attention of the authorities, he hadn't been angry or accusatory at all. He'd just been Booth—her protector, her partner, her mate. She didn't even pretend that he wouldn't lash out at some point soon about her departure and lack of communication. She knew that she deserved the accusations and anger he'd direct toward her eventually.

She knew that the logical course of action now would be to remain calm, to avoid responding to any questions, and to obtain legal counsel. Because she would have limited time to make only one phone call, she should have been preparing a plan for what she would do in that very moment. However, as she sat there in the back of the police car watching the city she'd vacated months earlier pass by, she felt as if she'd never do the logical thing or make the rational choice again. It was as if her actions of this one day had separated her forever from her calm, detached, entirely logical self. All she felt in this moment was emotion—enough to drown her with its fury. She physically ached to hold her child and couldn't even consider how long it might be until she was able to do so again. She yearned to have stolen a hug or a kiss from Booth. She knew that his touch, his affection, would be enough to sustain her and give her hope. Lacking all those things, she felt alone and helpless and vulnerable—and she wasn't comfortable with the latter two emotions as they were as completely foreign to her as the pop culture references and expressions Booth so often tried to explain to her. Alone, she could handle. Helpless and vulnerable? Not so much.

Temperance closed her eyes and remembered the events that had led up to this situation. It wasn't a complicated story, and her actions had not been logical since she'd woken that morning.

_She'd arisen on her new-normal schedule, showered and dressed, and then fed Christine and dressed her for the day. She'd packed a bag and the diaper bag quickly and then loaded the car and left her safe house. She'd scrawled a quick note for her father—she'd known that he wouldn't have allowed her to be so rash and take such risks. Yet, knowing the logic he'd use to persuade her of the error of her ways and ignoring it, she'd left anyway. _

_She had reached a crossroads and had to take action. She'd simply needed to see Booth and had decided that she'd been away from him long enough. Consequences and the threat of imprisonment had no longer terrified her. But she had been overwhelmed by the feeling that one more day away from her lover might sever something deep within her metaphorical heart. Unwilling to risk that possibility and the fact that she might lose her connection to the man she loved so deeply, she'd simply gotten into the car and driven back toward Booth._

_The entire day she'd considered calling him but decided it was too risky. She knew that she couldn't just go to their home—it was likely that the FBI or Pelant or both were monitoring that site in the hoped that she'd arrive there. Instead, she'd parked her car in a public park near the river and napped during the afternoon. Awakened by the alarm on her phone, she'd fed Christine, bathed her in hugs and kisses, and tucked her safely into the infant carrier. As she'd driven the car as near the Hoover Building as she'd dared, she had spoken to her daughter about her father and about the brief reunion that was impending. Her voice had been sure and steady—she was convinced that even a few moments alone with Booth would be enough to enable her to find the strength to disappear again and remain in hiding as long as necessary. Her daughter had sensed her anticipation and had babbled and gurgled happily as her mother had driven them toward their real home—toward her father._

_Temperance had learned a great deal from Booth about techniques for following suspects while remaining undetected. She'd employed all of those maneuvers skillfully as she'd followed his SUV into traffic. Dodging his intermittent glances in the rearview mirror had been challenging—especially given the limited space to move in the heavy traffic. But she'd performed satisfactorily and had remained undetected behind him. With her intense focus on hiding her presence from her lover until she could find a moment to signal him that she was there, she had not noticed the car following closely behind her. She had been spotted by the agents assigned to tail Booth on his way home, and they had called for backup even as she'd sat quietly in traffic, feeling blessed to have a few precious moments to spy on her lover as he waited impatiently in his vehicle._

_Her throat had closed up when she'd first glimpsed him. Emotion had overcome her, and she'd trembled all over from pure need for him. She'd blinked back tears and relished the time to just watch him. His ticks and tells known to her as well as he knew her own. She smiled watching him tap his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. She imagined the ways she'd have bickered with him lightly to distract him if they'd been in that vehicle together. She sighed with love and with longing for his presence, his touch, his reassurance. Finally unable to take it any longer, she'd retrieved her phone and begun calling his number. Caught up in the anticipation, she hadn't seen the officers move from their car to surround her._

Blocking out the sounds of their instructions and the clicks of the safeties being disengaged on their weapons, she'd dropped her phone and raised her hands obediently, all the while focused on the vision of the man in the car ahead of her. She'd trembled as she'd seen Booth notice her, and she'd ached as she'd watched him leap from the SUV and rush recklessly toward her. Booth's skill in removing the agents and officers from his path had not surprised her. But she'd hardly noticed anything aside from the determination on his face and the way he was moving so strongly and purposefully toward her.

His simple grunt of her name once he drew close nearly made her knees buckle. Again irrational thoughts and feelings had flooded her system.

She wanted to go back into hiding.

She wanted to change the fact that she'd ever considered coming home without warning him.

She wanted to go back and kill Pelant before any of this had happened to them.

She ached to do anything to change the fact that she could not simply rush to him and spend hours standing there in his embrace.

Thinking a million thoughts and feeling so much more than even that, she'd gazed up at him wordlessly, save for the name most dear to her, "Booth."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Wednesday, 6:27 p.m.

He'd made it to her, but even Seeley Booth wasn't strong enough to outmaneuver five agents and at least twice that many police officers. Before he could respond to his partner further, he was tackled to the ground and handcuffed. Surrounded by the crowd of cops who were detaining him, Booth yelled to his partner, hoping that she could hear him. "Bones! Can you hear me? Bones! We'll sort this out. I'll get you a lawyer! Bones!"

By the time they dragged the still-struggling man to his feet, Booth couldn't find his partner anywhere. He continued to yell her name and to thrash around wildly—nearly freeing himself from the grasp of the three men trying to hold him.

He watched as a large crowd of agents moved away from the vehicle toward a waiting police cruiser. Bones was in the middle of that crowd. He didn't know if she could even hear him anymore. He ached to free himself and run to her—make sure that she was all right. Furious though he was with her, he hadn't even gotten to tell her that he loved her. It hit him in the gut that she might not even realize that he still did. Infuriated by the insanity and the basic inhumanity of the situation, he turned to the agent to his right and growled, "She'd better not have a scratch on her, or I'll hold you responsible." He glared at the man so intensely that he shrank back—message delivered.

"C'mon, pal," one of the officers demanded, yanking Booth hard by the elbow to take him to what he could only suspect was another police vehicle. Temporarily thrown off balance, Booth stumbled forward trying to right himself. But as they neared the car Bones had been driving, he swerved toward it, pulling all three agents along in his wake. The female agent who'd been tasked with removing the infant from the car stepped back protectively, pulling the child farther away from the crazed man who appeared to be lunging toward them. But her warnings that he stay back and the shouts of the officers trying to pull him back went unnoticed and ignored. For as he stepped closer to the woman and stared wide-eyed at the bundled child in her arms, Booth's heart broke all over again. As his knees bent from the force of the kick of the officer behind him, Booth ignored the scrape of the asphalt on his kneecaps and the pain of the impact of his bones on the ground. Staring only at the child in front of him—one he had not seen in months, Seeley Booth spoke to the universe and to anyone else in the crowd who might have a heart, "She's my daughter! Let me see my daughter!" He yelled those phrases over and over again in such a gut-wrenchingly sad voice that even the arresting officers were compelled to allow him to stand up and move closer to the child being taken into protective custody.

For one brief moment, Booth was able to look down at his daughter where she lay sleeping and unaware of the chaos going on around her. "I love you, Christine. Everything will be okay," he soothed, stunning all those watching with the complete change of demeanor in the man before them. "Daddy will make everything okay, baby. Be a good girl. Daddy loves you so much," he whispered, a lone tear winding its way down his scraped cheek and stinging.

The calm, comforting man morphed back into a desperate man under arrest as the woman turned to leave with his child. Reacting physically instead of just caving in to the emotions threatening to overwhelm him, Booth struggled mightily, injuring more than one of the officers and causing them to call in reinforcements just to help them muscle him into the waiting car. He knew that resisting had been futile and that he was just giving them an actual reason to charge him with something, but he was too wound up and needed his daughter too much to care.

In a few fleeting moments at the end of an otherwise ordinary day, his world had turned upside down again. Bones had come back, and he hadn't even had a chance to talk to her. He was being arrested when he'd committed no crime—despite the fact that he was a Special Agent with the freaking FBI. And worst of all, his beautiful, innocent, heart-crushingly adorable baby girl was being carted off to some God-forsaken agency for placement with a foster family. He knew that Bones would crumble once she realized what was happening to their daughter. Foster care for that loved and, if anything, overprotected child had never been an option either of them could entertain as a remote possibility. Realizing that it was now becoming a reality like so many other things he'd never imagined, Booth cursed under his breath and wondered where God was in this whole situation.

Scanning the crowd for familiar faces and still finding none (of course the Bureau hadn't sent his friends out to arrest him and his partner), Booth's heart sank. He had to make a phone call. He had to get some help.


	5. Chapter 5

_**[A/N: I don't own Bones, but I am so happy that the new season is less than a week away! Thank you ever so much for reading here.]**_

Chapter 5

Wednesday 10:42 p.m.

Booth sat staring at the blank wall in front of him. As he waited, he barely moved—even his breathing was hardly noticeable to anyone examining him (and he knew there were multiple people on the other side of the observation window examining him). He'd had years of experience coupled with hours of top-notch training on how to torture and mental and physical anguish—he knew how to endure boredom, extreme temperatures, and far worse-all while appearing unphased and not as annoyed as he was.

The moment he'd been locked in the back of the police cruiser, he had transformed instantly from the angry man whose family was being disassembled to the experienced cop who was still mad as hell but who was now more than ready to deal with the business ahead of him. Booth knew the drill, this extraordinarily long wait was designed to make him grow impatient and get rattled. They'd seen him at the scene and witnessed his lapse in control. They were planning to take advantage of his perceived weakness. Any moment now, an agent or two far less skilled than he were going to barge into the room and demand information from him, and they hoped that waiting for much longer than necessary would make him impatient and likely to be more forthcoming. Unfortunately for the agents planning to interview him, he'd read the book they used as guidance. Hell, he'd written half of that book—or at least mastered dozens of techniques they hadn't even yet written into it. They couldn't hit him with anything he couldn't handle. He was poised and ready. His only discernible movement was a slight tick of his jaw. He was the picture of cool, calm, and composed, and he was more than ready to manage the situation.

As predicted, about 10 minutes later, the designated agents finally entered the room and sat down busying themselves far too long with purposefully mundane and irritatingly normal tasks such as pulling paper out of files and clicking their pens to ready them for note-taking, Booth sat, still unmoving. Tension wafted off of him, but he was managing to restrain his emotions and stay eerily calm.

"Agent Booth, I'm sure you understand that Agent Ross and I have a few questions for you," the man began calmly. Booth did not respond; he only made brief eye contact with the man.

Eager to assert his skill and control of the situation, the agent continued a bit too dramatically. "When did you arrange to meet Dr. Brennan?" Agent Ross inquired.

"I did not arrange to meet Dr. Brennan today," Booth responded calmly.

"Where were you taking her?" the agent continued.

Booth bit back the sigh that would have signaled his frustration, "I was driving home from the office. Until I saw the flashing blue lights, I was unaware that I was being followed."

"Oh, come on Agent Booth," Agent Harris blustered noisily, "A trained sniper with your experience didn't know he was being tailed? Not possible unless you're losing your edge and getting too old for the job."

Booth narrowed his eyes a bit but responded calmly. "I suspected that someone might be tailing me but I had not seen anyone before the officers moved in."

Feigning exasperation, Ross continued to pretend that he was in charge of things, "So this is your story, huh? Your partner was just following you without your knowledge?"

"Yes, that's the truth."

Booth watched the man change gears mentally. It was so transparent that he'd have laughed out loud had his life not been shot to hell and he had he not desperately needed to avoid looking as if he were actually as crazy as he now felt. Imagining that his planned strategy was not anticipated by Booth at all, the less seasoned agent continued, "Look. I know you know the game and its rules. I'm gonna shoot straight with you, law man to law man. You need to give us something so that we can use it to convince the District Police to drop the charges against you."

"I've answered your questions and been honest," Booth insisted.

"But you haven't offered up anything else to help your cause."

"I have nothing else to offer."

"So you're not cooperating?" the other agent interrupted.

His partner would have noticed the increased tension in his expression, and perhaps Sweets might have seen it, but Booth had his emotions under control well enough to keep them hidden. He calmly replied, "As I stated earlier, I've cooperated fully."

"But you haven't..."

Booth stayed calm, but he decided to take charge of the situation. He wasn't going to sit here and play games—not with this guy. He'd turn the tables on him before he even knew what hit him. Time to take charge and get this train rolling, "Look. I do know the game, and now I'm gonna shoot straight with you. I'm a sniper. I always shoot straight. My aim is damned accurate. So here it is in plain English my son would understand. I didn't know Bones was following me—if she was, in fact, following me. I had not spoken with her since she left me at the church months ago. As I have told Agent Flynn and other agents repeatedly, I did not know her whereabouts. I did not make any plans with her. Period. End of story."

"Look, Booth..."

"No, you look, Ross... The bureau can convince the district not to press charges. It happens all the time. You just need to fill out the requisite paperwork and shake a few hands. I'll do it myself if you don't know how. And unless you and your partner here can think of any more creative ways to ask me questions I've already told you I don't have answers to, then you need to let me make a phone call. Either arrest me and let me make the requisite call, or let me leave so that I can make it on my own phone. Either way this plays out, you have to make a decision and then take an action and then let me make a phone call."

"These things take time...," Ross continued. Without any warning, Booth stood up to his full height and glared at the man menacingly. As he did so, he slammed his hands down on the table and leaned over in an intimidating fashion. "My partner has been arrested, and my daughter is God knows where. I need to make a call, Ross, so either give me your cell, bring me another phone, or make the decision to lock me up. If you don't, the first thing I'll tell my lawyer is that you denied me the right to my phone call."

Realizing that any greater outburst would only cause him trouble, Booth sat back down and resumed his fairly relaxed posture in the chair. He could tell that someone was barking instructions in the agents' ears. The men exchanged glances and left the room.

A few minutes later, a more seasoned agent entered the room. "Am I still being denied my right to a phone call?" Booth asked without waiting to learn the man's name. "Because I know you're recording this, and this is the second time I've requested the right to make a call."

When the agent didn't answer, Booth continued. "So you're violating my rights as a U.S. citizen AND my rights as an FBI employee? Perfect. Why don't you just hand me the goods for a lawsuit that will help me retire early?"

The man sat down across from him and gazed at him without emotion. Booth's patience started fraying around the edges, but he was nothing if not stubborn.

Leaning back in his chair so as to appear non-threatening, Booth shot the breeze as apparently casually as he would in a work-related situation. His manner was relaxed and manner-of-fact even if his words were far more serious, "You know that I could be out of this room and down the hallway before you could pull your weapon on me. I have cooperated fully, and I'm not going to escape, but I need to make a damned call, and I'm getting impatient waiting. So, if you don't have the authority required to make the decision about whether I can make that phone call or not, then get a lawyer in here to explain it to you or get on the damned phone yourself and call the deputy director. He knows my rights if nobody else here does."

"They're bringing a phone in now, Agent Booth."

TWTUFWMTTD... TWTUFWMTTD... TWTUFWMTTD... TWTUFWMTTD...

Perfect. Voicemail. Nice time to try to leave a succinct message. No pressure. No idea when she'd actually get the message. No idea if they'd let him make another call. Grumbling internally, he focused and prepared his words carefully as a few moments would allow, "Camille, this is important. Don't delete this message. I've been arrested, Bones has been arrested, and they took Christine. I need a lawyer, and I need one fast. Get word to the squints that they have to work double-time to find something that will help free Bones. Then get on the phone to social services and move mountains to get Christine away from them yourself—you were an approved foster parent for Michelle. You can apply to take Christine until one of us gets out. Look, I don't care what you have to do or who you have to ask-get Pops or Jared or even Russ Keenan to ask for custody if you can't. I'm in an interrogation room at the Hoover and being treated like less than a full citizen by my brothers in arms. You're our only hope."

Sighing loudly, Booth hung up the phone and resumed his silent stare at the wall in front of him. He sat patiently, waiting for more agents to come in and hammer him with questions he could not answer. As he sat, he tried to forget how stupid it was that he and Bones hadn't finalized the paperwork making arrangements for Christine should anything happen to both of them. Sure, they'd developed wills, but they hadn't finalized their other arrangements, including official papers with clauses that would kick in if either of them was still living. Neither of them could have imagined that they wouldn't stay together or that, if only one of them were one of them still alive, that he or she wouldn't have moved heaven and earth to keep Christine. They hadn't anticipated a situation like this—not until Pelant had wreaked havoc on them and Bones had run off without signing the damned forms that would have given Angela and Hodgins custody of Christine if both of them were incapacitated for any reason. Bones had taken Christine with her, fully anticipating that Booth would get their daughter had she been arrested. After they left and he found the incomplete forms and was unable to reach his partner, Booth had tried to get the paperwork processed without Bones there, but the matter was quickly tied up in family court and the bureau had all but intruded on the case to bog things down. They'd thought that Booth would cooperate more under that sort of pressure. Not realizing how much it would matter, he had not. He'd called their bluff. He was wishing like hell now that he hadn't.

He wasn't Bones, but he could compartmentalize, too. So unless the bureau was going to pull out serious torture or other horrifying things the likes of which he'd probably already survived anyway, he was going to jump through their ridiculous hoops while simultaneously planning everything he really needed to be doing. Bones needed a lawyer and couldn't be sent to jail—not without being in solitary with 24-hour guards he could trust. Christine... he couldn't make himself think about that sweet baby for long. If he did, he'd break out to go find her and end up locked up permanently. Better to table those thoughts of that adorable kid of his for now. Cam would get to her. She'd be okay. She had to be.

The charges against him were insignificant. They'd have to let him off on his own recognizance. But that required a judge, and he had to find a way to get in front of one fast. Bones, too, for that matter. Where the hell was Cam?

He sat there for at least half an hour more after they took the phone away from him. He'd requested a call to an arbitrator or internal affairs or the Director himself and been ignored. Damn pencil pushers. Not a solid agent in the mix so far. Not a human in the mix either. Talking to or reasoning with these jerks wasn't going to pan out. He had to wait and be patient. He'd just have to do whatever it took to get out of there. He just hoped it wouldn't take too much time.

When he was on the verge of requesting another phone call—a second one due him by rights of employment, the door swung open and slammed into the wall of the observation room. Surprised but finally encouraged, Booth watched and listened as someone he hadn't expected burst into the room. Caroline Julian stormed in as only she could and glared at him. "So, are you just gonna sit there all night, or are you coming with me, Cherie? Can't keep the judge waiting!"

Having no clue what she was doing, Booth leapt up and followed her anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

_[NOTE: __I hate leaving stories unfinished, and this chapter was already written, so I finally caved and decided to post it. I didn't lose motivation when I "abandoned" this story and the other one I was writing, but I have been very busy. Yes, events on TV have gone a different way, but I'd never try to keep up with that anyway. This different direction was planned with the knowledge that it wouldn't make for good TV but with the hopes that it might entertain a few of you. The inspiration is still there-it's just been long-ignored. It is only now, when I'm really too very busy to write at all, that the urge to write has returned full force. My muse is ridiculously consistent that way._

_So this is me... posting something already written in hopes that I'll get out and shop and do the zillions of other things that need doing today instead of holing up here and writing all day. Because that's what I'd love to do. This long-overdue post is really just my desperate attempt to be a grown-up and do the right thing. Or maybe it's a tributed to Caroline-just because she's so awesome. Regardless of the reason, I give you the next chapter in The World Turned Upside Down. Thank you very much for stopping here to read. Please let me know what you think. _

_Everyone who knows me knows that I definitely don't own Bones. ]_

NOTE: If you don't remember where we were with this story (and I'd be shocked if you did), this chapter follows one in which Caroline surprised Booth and "rescued" him from his incarceration by asking her to follow him. He'd been arrested for resisting arrest when Bones showed back up unexpectedly after the summer hiatus preceding TV Season 8.

Chapter 6

When he attempted to speak to Caroline as they walked, she turned to the officer trailing him and told him to put handcuffs on Booth. As she appeared to avoid eye contact with Booth, Caroline confided in the guard in that snarky way that she had long ago mastered, "You'd think that he'd know, after all these years, that I don't condescend to consort with accused criminals—no matter how attractive they think they are or how many favors they still owe me."

Taking her not so subtle hint, Booth stood patiently as he was cuffed again and taken to the waiting transport van. He cringed internally as he watched the guard chain his cuffs to the heavy chain bolted to the floor of the van. He'd seen this done to countless criminals, and he'd wielded those cuffs and chains himself on those particularly violent ones—even Taffett herself. But being locked down that same way was tough for him to handle.

"He's secure, Cherie," Caroline offered, "Thanks for your help." On cue, the security guard closed and locked the van and smacked a hand on the door to signal the driver that the prisoner was ready for transport.

The atmosphere in the van changed the moment the door swung closed. "You okay, cher?"Caroline asked, her eyes apologizing and telling him her façade had been just that.

"Yeah," he responded, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion and fatigue in equal measure.

"Judge Mortenson will be waiting at the courthouse. He will be cranky because it's so late, so we'll need to work fast. I have your situation taken care of. Consider me your personal genie, cher, what else do you need from me tonight? Make it quick because I'm fairly certain that I will be persona non grata or, at a minimum, suspended indefinitely after tonight."

Booth shot her a look that told her not to stick her neck out too far for him, and she met it with a glare that caused him to back down instinctively, "The bureau's lost its head and its conscience, and the whole damned Justice Department is standing on its head over this case with you and Dr. Brennan. I'll not be a party to such a sham. I am doing this, so we'd darn well better make it worth doing. What do you need, Booth?"

Booth jumped in quickly, "Christine... I've got to keep her out of foster care or get her out."

"Understood. Not a sure thing, but we can deal with that. What else? What about Dr. Brennan?"

Booth glanced at her and quickly ignored the question in her eyes. He could tell that Caroline had been hesitant to bring his long-absent lover up to him at all, and that hurt even though he should have appreciated her consideration-he'd been carrying that particular pain around so long that he couldn't remember not hauling it around with him. "Can you get them to keep Bones at the Hoover? There are isolation cells and short-term holding cells that would work. I'm not sure there's a precedent, but Pelant will kill her in jail or in prison. She needs to be where we can trust the people who are watching her."

"With no help from the brass or the flunkies, we'll be at a disadvantage. Flynn's being a jerk. He wants to make this painful so that you'll talk to him. He's looking for leverage."

"Blood from a turnip? Still? Whatever you can do, Caroline. I appreciate it."

"Cher?" she began again, tentative though it was so very much against her nature. "If we don't have enough time. I assume you want me to take care of Dr. Brennan first…."

"No," Booth interrupted quickly. "Christine cannot be in foster care. Bones... she won't... it's what she would want."

"Are you sure? With Pelant still on the loose?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay, cherie, we'll just work triple-time to get through all the issues."

"Caroline, you're a federal prosecutor. How...?"

"No time to explain. Trust me, Booth. When have I ever done anything but dazzle you with my brilliance? I have your back... at least until I need someone to cover mine."

The van stopped, and the door was unlocked and opened moments later. As the door swung open, Caroline whispered, "Showtime."

With that, she glared at him as if he were pond scum and grumbled, "I knew I should have sat up front with the driver. Can't be wasting my time riding with common criminals," she blustered to the guard who had opened the door to greet them.

Booth waited until the courthouse guard had helped Caroline out and then unlocked his handcuffs from the heavy chain. Then, making brief eye contact with the man, he thanked him for his work by name.

"Agent Booth?! What happened?" the man inquired when he recognized the man he'd interacted with dozens of times.

"It'll be okay, Jenkins. The wheels of justice will turn around again. I'll be back and harassing you to hurry prisoners into court soon enough."

"Your partner...? I've been following the news reports... Did they find her?"

"She found me. Thus, the cuffs," Booth said sadly.

"I'll keep you both in my prayers, sir," Jenkins offered.

"Please add my baby girl to that list," Booth asked.

"Consider it done. I know you'd do the same for me," the officer said before leading Booth into the building and to the security desk. After he passed through the inspection, Booth was taken down the long hallway to a bench near where Caroline was sitting. "I'll leave the good agent here with you, Ms. Julian," Jenkins said as he broke protocol to unlock Booth's handcuffs. Shooting him a meaningful look, he patted Booth on the shoulder before leaving.

As free as he'd been in ages, Booth stretched and then rubbed his chafed wrists to soothe the ache. Since they'd arrived at the courthouse, Caroline had not acknowledged him. She sat ramrod straight and staring straight ahead. Following her lead, Booth sat down and waited. A few minutes later, an obviously frantic David Barron raced up to his ex-wife.

"What is it? What happened? Is Monique okay?" he demanded answers.

"She's fine. Listen...," Caroline began.

"No, you listen," he growled, "You wake me up at 11:30 at night with a 9-1-1 page to come here for MY DAUGHTER. Cut the crap, Carrie, and tell me now."

"I simply don't have time to apologize for the rude awakening. I will explain and make amends later. Monique is fine. This does not concern her."

"Have you lost your mind? Are you trying to kill me? I could have had a heart attack!"

"Here, take this," Caroline ordered as she shoved a folder into his hands. "Everything you need is right here. Blue highlight in the important places just the way you like it…."

He started to speak, but she held up a hand to stop him.

"Remember that time you made me cry?" she asked him, clearly referring to a painful experience from their shared past.

"You? Cry? No... You never..."

"Do you think I'm a good lawyer?" she asked, changing gears in a way that made him even more confused.

In that haze, he responded as best he could, "What?! Dammit, you're the best I've ever seen!"

"Did you ever love me, David?" she asked another seemingly random question, watching as her words settled in and calmed her ex-husband down as intended.

As anticipated, her tone of voice and the way she looked at him pulled him up short. His voice now soft and low, he replied, "Carrie... I love you still. Always have. Always will. What the hell is going on?"

"This man," Caroline said, finally motioning to Booth. "This damned fine human being needs our help. He needs to get out of jail, get his job back, help his girlfriend—you remember Dr. Brennan, right David?—well, he needs to get her out of jail, too. And he also needs us to help get his child out of the state child welfare system—tonight. In an hour, maybe less."

"Carrie..."

"This conversation never happened. Agent Booth contacted you on his own. You hear me? David, if you ever loved me and if you still believe in the justice system, then open that folder and help him out. Too many injustices are happening right now, and you and I need to partner up the way we used to do to set things right."

"I..."

"I'd be grateful for your help, sir. Bones... she has money. She..."

Barron looked at Booth and then at his ex-wife. "He'll do it pro bono," Caroline offered. "Because of that one time he made me cry."

Without even a moment to confirm her decision, Barron turned to hear the bailiff announce, "Ms. Julian, Mr. Barron... the judge will see you now."

TWTUDFWMTTD... TWTUDFWMTTD... TWTUDFWMTTD... TWTUDFWMTTD...

An hour later, Booth had been released on his own recognizance. He's been stunned by Caroline's brilliance and planning. Because of an earlier call from her, the chief counsel for the District Police department had shown up and dropped all the charges. He raved about Booth's cooperation with them on prior cases and noted that he might have behaved the same way himself in similar circumstances. Caroline had immediately filed a petition to drop all the Justice Department's charges as well. Booth couldn't imagine who'd signed it, but he was grateful someone had. Caroline really had saved them all. She'd even produced papers—somehow signed by Bones—granting him full custody of Christine as long as she remained incarcerated or incapacitated in any other way.

Booth looked down and still couldn't believe that he was holding a subpoena granting him custody of Christine and ordering the state to hand her back to him. After taking a moment to focus on that development, he continued to reflect on the fact that Caroline really had been more than amazing. She had provided her ex-husband with notes and evidence needed for all the issues facing them. She'd also provided him with an argument for keeping Bones locked up at the Hoover Building. Booth testified about the circumstances and the reason she couldn't be put into the prison system—not yet. She had also talked with Cam and asked her to rally Sweets and the squint squad in to testify about their belief in Brennan's innocence and the dangers of sending her into the system. Unbelievably, the folder she'd handed over also contained faxed letters from 3 sitting Governors, one former Governor who was now running for Senate, and the Secretary of the Department of Defense—all of whom lauded Dr. Brennan for her patriotism and her work identifying remains so that families could bury their lost loved ones. Booth's respect and affection for his favorite federal prosecutor rose significantly in the wee hours of that morning.

While even Caroline hadn't been good enough to get Bones out of jail, she managed, through some clever eye rolls and a few texts that told David what to say when he stumbled trying to read and comprehend all the data on the fly, to keep her out of regular jail. Given the fact that things could have been much more desperate, that would have to be a sufficient miracle for that day.

Without making Booth wait one second longer than necessary, Caroline had dialed Family Services and located Christine. Then she and David drove Booth there to pick her up. They stood and watched as he paced and shifted his weight back and forth while they waited for the state employee who'd taken Christine home with her for the night packed up her things and bundled up the sleeping baby. They watched as Mrs. Gandy gently placed Christine in her father's arms. They saw Booth sway and nearly stumble into a nearby chair as he gazed down lovingly at his daughter.

"So big...," they heard him exclaim in wonder as he held his daughter tightly. He moved a finger to touch her small fingertips gently. When he did, she instinctively grasped his finger and held onto it. Without warning, he was hit with the reality of the situation. He'd missed days, weeks, months of holding her like this. Choking back a sob, he held her tightly. He sat there with his daughter—unwilling to move or speak or do anything more than reclaim his baby as his own. He lost all track of time, but those he was inconveniencing understood and waited quietly and at a respectful distance giving the man the time he needed to recover from the quiet, emotional reunion.

Later, Booth rose and looked over toward Caroline. "David and I will drive you two home," she said without asking for her ex-husband's consent. Having witnessed this man's reunion with his daughter, David wouldn't have considered doing anything except what he could do to help.


End file.
